


Oh Poor Atlas

by GKingOfFez



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Coffee, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 18:37:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10770057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GKingOfFez/pseuds/GKingOfFez
Summary: "He looked to her like the weight of the entire galaxy had been strapped to his back and Hera’s heart ached with sympathy and sadness."Kanan has a sad moment. As always, Hera's there to help.





	Oh Poor Atlas

**Author's Note:**

> So I’ve sort of set up a schedule for myself where I post every week on the weekend. This is something I wrote today and not from the pile of wips I should be working on but ya’know ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. Whoops.

It was very early in the Ghost’s morning cycle, and Hera was still shaking off the last vestiges of sleep from her lekku on her usual stomp to the ship’s galley for breakfast when she walked into the common room.

The first thing that struck her as the door hissed open was the familiar bitter aroma of caf already hanging in the air. This was unusual, as Hera was always the first of her crew to wake up, and it had long become habit for her to turn on the caf machine for everyone else to follow after.

She stopped in the doorway and scanned the common room, her eyes drawn to Kanan sitting on one of the short stools at the djerlek table, a mug before him with wisps of steam gently twirling out. He was wearing the looser grey pants he only wore to bed and a threadbare black undershirt, and his hair was loose and sleep-trussed. She sighed softly when she took in his dejected body language- the mug was untouched, his shoulders hunched forward and he was leaning over the table with his head in his hands and fingers gripping lightly at the roots of his long brown hair.

He looked to her like the weight of the entire galaxy had been strapped to his back and Hera’s heart ached with sympathy and sadness.

In a way, it was true- he and Ezra had been forced to both drag the weight of the entire Jedi Order behind them _and_ find a way to lift it up again, all the while being hunted down by ISB agents, Inquisitors and Sith Lords. Being a part of the larger Rebellion now only added to that pressure, as while they were no longer scrounging for supplies to barely keep themselves running on Lothal, they were now an important link in a much larger chain, and that came with a huge heaping of extra responsibility that even Hera was starting to feel through the long nights and aching muscles.

She walked into the common room quietly, but not too quiet as to startle the Jedi from his thoughts. Knowing him, he had probably sensed her coming before the door had even opened, but the only acknowledgement he gave of her presence was to rustle out of his statue-like state and reach for his caf mug, leaving one hand in place on his temple.

Hera knew that if it had been Sabine, Zeb, Ezra or even Chopper that had walked in on Kanan like this, the Jedi would have instantly snapped out of whatever funk he was in with a wide grin and a joke. But with Hera, there was no need at all to be guarded; they’d both seen each other at their lowest and highest points over the years. Kanan had been the one to hold her as she sobbed her heart out a few years ago when she received word that members of her extended family had been taken from Ryloth and sold into slavery, and in turn she was there to witness the glowing pride in Kanan’s eyes when he had drunkenly told her over and over again how proud he was of how far Ezra and Sabine had come since they’d joined the Ghost.

This situation before her wasn’t an unusual one- every once in a while Hera knew that Kanan simply became overwhelmed by the suffocating weight of all he had lost and the painful ‘what if?’ of all he could still lose in the future. Hera preferred to push feelings like that into the Ghost and the Rebellion, making sure everything was calibrated to perfection and that missions ran as smoothly as they could. Sabine worked her frustrations out through art and explosions, Zeb through beating up every Stormtrooper within reach and Ezra had a habit of disappearing into vents for hours at a time, although he had been getting better at talking to Kanan and her about his feelings. They all dealt with the pressures of their pasts and the duties of their present in different ways, and that was okay, as long as it never held them down for too long.

Hera knew for a fact that later in the day Kanan would be absolutely fine, and there would be no trace of sorrowful tension in his shoulders when they set out on their planned supply mission.

Still, Hera paused halfway across the room and turned towards him. After a moment’s hesitation, she trod over and draped one arm across his shoulder and the other under his armpit, leaning down to pull him into a tight from-behind hug, snuggling her face into the line of his neck.

Kanan relaxed into her embrace, melting at her touch, and let out a small huff that meant he was smiling. His hair smelt like the cheap shampoo that only he and Ezra used (Zeb and Sabine both had their own special shampoos, Hera and Chopper had no need for it at all for obvious reasons) and she breathed it in deeply. It smelt like safety and familiarity and _Kanan_.

She grinned widely, struck suddenly by an idea, and pushed her lips to his skin as though to kiss it. Instead, with a _‘pfffbbbt’_ she blew a playful and wet raspberry against his neck.

Kanan spluttered, and jerked so hard in surprise that several splashes of caf spilled out from his mug.

“Hey!” he cried.

“No sulking allowed on _my_ ship!” Hera teased, pulling him back in and moving to kiss his cheek.

Kanan’s response was a noise of mock affront, and when he turned his face to her, Hera caught his lips with her own to abruptly shut him up. Both their eyelids fluttered closed.

“As you wish then, _Captain_ ,” Kanan said flirtingly when they broke apart. There was a blush on his cheeks and he cocked his ridiculously shaped eyebrows at her. She rolled her eyes back at him.

_“_ Ugh,” came another voice, and they both turned to the door to see Sabine shuffling in on a beeline to the galley, wearing her tie-dye sleep shirt and pants and with her dark blue and turquoise hair on end. “You two are _so_ gross, get a room.”

“We _are_ in a room,” Kanan shot back amusedly, gesturing around them.

_“Ugh,”_ was all Sabine seemed to dignify as a response.

As the teenager began rattling around in the galley, Hera withdrew her arms from around Kanan’s neck and took a step back, still keeping one hand supportingly on her Jedi’s shoulder. Kanan took a moment to contemplate the coffee spill on the djerlek table before straightening up and swivelling around on the stool to look directly at her. His eyes shone with an intimate gratitude and love, while a half-sad grin tugged at his lips.

Hera gave him a half-smile of her own in return, giving  his shoulder a final squeeze that spoke more than she could ever say with words, before ghosting her hand across his cheek and then pulling away entirely to follow Sabine. With the day they had planned, she needed some Force-damned cup of caf just to get started, and it was good that for once that she didn’t need to set the machine up.

“You better clean up that spill. If it leaves a stain, I’ll have your head,” she threw casually over her shoulder. She almost couldn’t contain the grin that tugged at her lips when he mockingly saluted in response. Already, it was impossible to tell that he had only moments ago been drowning in his own thoughts.

_He’ll be okay in the end,_ Hera thought a bit later as she absently stirred sugar into her cup. _We **all** will. _

**Author's Note:**

> This is 1000% inspired by some Shenko (from Mass Effect) art I saw on tumblr that was just *clenches fist* so cute.


End file.
